


I Think I Came From There

by domestichesters (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angels, Brothers, Fallen Angels, Gen, No Romance, SPN - Freeform, angel!Sam, angel!dean, cas, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5170910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/domestichesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's okay, Sam," says the toddler. "It's okay."</p><p>A fallen angels AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think I Came From There

It's 8:37, p.m., according to the watch on the old man's wrist. He squints into it, lets his hand fall limp to his lap, stares up at the sky and takes a long hard swig of beer. He stares, and he stares, and just as his head rolls back on his shoulders and his eyes close their final close, the dog at his feet starts barking, and the sky erupts in color.

The man is dead, but the sky is alive, dancing with color and fire and somewhere in the middle of it all, two boys. The dog barks until morning comes, runs out into the yard, then the sky stops dancing and there's nothing but the dog and the grass and the wet, soggy, dirt. Feet from him, though, are the boys. Hidden behind long, unkempt, stalks of grass, is a freckled toddler, arms wrapped tight around a hairless baby, shaking in the cold November air.

"It's okay, Sam," says the toddler. "It's okay."

The dog walks home, to the dead man's feet, curls up in a ball and dies right there. The man and the dog, dead, and by the time they're found it will have been a month, and the sky will be still and their soft skin will have faded to nothing and the boys in the field will be gone, and the death they died will never be conclusive because the death they died won't make sense.

In the field, as the dog curls up and closes his eyes, the toddler stands. He holds the baby to his chest and starts to walk. He walks, and walks, and walks, stops at some point and points up at the sky and lifts the baby's hand and waves it for him. The baby falls asleep, and the toddler keeps walking, stopping only at the road, at the chipped black asphalt of the deserted country road, he sits at the edge with the baby in his lap and stares up at the sky with a smile. He falls asleep, there, baby held tight, in the late afternoon sun, basking in a warmth he's never known, in the solidity of the ground and the brisk wind that blows against his face and turns his cheeks a rosy red.

He wakes up to the noise of an engine, revving, then stalling, so close he can smell the exhaust and another smell he can't quite place, until he opens his eyes and knows it's the smell of the man that squats before them, squinting and chewing a stick of tobacco, looking worried. "What're you boys doing out here at night?" says the man.

The toddler shakes his head.

"What is it?" says the man.

The toddler shakes his head again, points at the baby in his arms, whispers, "He's sleeping."

"Right," the man wipes at his face with the back of his hand, looks around, then back at the boys who sit innocent as ever, shining in the headlights. "Could you maybe, I dunno, wake him up?"

The toddler seems to think for a minute, twirling his free hand in the grass. He looks down and nods, shakes the baby softly in his arms, and the baby's brown eyes open wide. He doesn't cry— he smiles, this great big toothless smile. "G'morning, Sam," says the toddler.

"Is that his name? Sam?"

"I think so," says the toddler.

"You think so?"

The toddler rocks Sam in his arms. "I don't know what else it would be."

"Aren't you brothers?"

"I think so."

"You—" the man stops himself, patting his leg. He whispers, then, "What're you doing out here?"

"We walked here," says the toddler, and the baby nods as if to agree.

"From where?"

"From the field, back there."

"And where did you come from before then?"

The boy looks up, down, at Sam in his arms and at the man and at his feet, bare, and sighs. His breath fogs the air and he runs his hand through the cloud, eyes filled with wonder, then points at the sky and whispers, "I think I came from there."

"You came from- from the sky. Of course. Okay. Where are your parents, can you answer that, or are they up there too?"

"Parents?' the toddler cocks his head. When the man says nothing, the boy rubs his stomach and says, "My stomach hurts, sir. I don't know what it is. It's making all kinds of noises."

"Are you hungry?"

"Hungry?"

"Do you need food?"

"Food, sir?"

Somewhere, far away, as the old man and the dog lay dead, and the toddler and the baby sit on the edge of the chipped black asphalt of the deserted country road, the sky erupts in color, and somewhere in the dancing colored flame, there is another, falling.


End file.
